


Sicknatural

by AnxiousCoffee (TheHallowedAngel)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: College Student Sam Winchester, Emetophilia, Fainting, I Don't Even Know, Medical Themes, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Sick Castiel, Sick Dean Winchester, Sick Gabriel (Supernatural), Sick Lucifer (Supernatural), Sick Sam Winchester, Teenchesters, Vomiting, Wetting, emeto, sick crowley, urine infections
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-14 08:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16489157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHallowedAngel/pseuds/AnxiousCoffee
Summary: People are suffering for the entirety of this month thanks to Nov(Emeto)ber! Prompts were created by my good friend, you can find the prompt list and rules etc. over on https://monthofsick.tumblr.comDay 1- The Boy who cried (wolf) sick.> Dean has used headaches to get out of too many lessons, understandably the teacher has stopped believing him.





	1. The Boy Who Cried (Wolf) Sick (Sick Dean)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's to hoping I can write all 21 prompts I've decided to do, wish me luck! Tomorrow is Sammy~

Dean put his hand up again, lazily waving it side to side. 

It was third period, English, in some school he'd been stuck in for a week now and still didn't know the name of. The teacher, understandably, didn't believe his claims of illness. Dean was a problem student, everywhere he went he was running down the grade average and stocking up on bad report cards, and his go to method of escaping lessons was crying migraine.

But this time he really wasn't making it up.

His stomach had been giving him grief since breakfast, cramping on and off to the point that he'd loosened his belt a couple holes so that it didn't make it worse. His throat had been bothering him too, the press of nausea making it hard to breathe properly, and there was this constant ache at the back of it, taunting him; daring him to cough.

"'Scuse me, ma'am." He called out, not rudely.

The teacher lowered her book and let out a heavy sigh, peering over her thick glasses at the unruly teen. Dean was now 19, parading as 18 so that he could still go to school with Sammy, and he hated when people looked down on him like that.

"Mister Winchester, please, that's quite enough from you. If this is another one of your phantom headaches, you can take it straight to the principle."

"With all due respect, sweetheart-" the class erupted into laughter, only making her angrier. The kids only got louder as her face went red and her nostrils flared with anger.

Dean continued regardless. 

"Look, I don't feel good, Okay? So just let me go see the nurse and go home. Feels like I'm gonna barf."

She slammed her book down on the desk before taking a few seconds to breathe, calming down.

"You look fine to me, Dean. Sit quietly or you'll have detention, that's your final warning."

"And," Dean started, bitterly, forcing the words through gritted teeth, "that was yours"

She got back to reading and Dean slouched over his desk, pressing his forehead to the marked wood and holding his stomach with both hands, massaging his swollen abdomen discretely.

He could feel his jeans pressing into his gut, even though he'd already let out his belt out they dug into the flesh. A low gurgle split the air and the kid in the desk next to him scooted away, saying something along the lines of 'dude, gross', and Dean told him to fuck off.

The teacher droned on about Shakespeare and Dean's stomach turned- not because of William, that guy's alright. He coughed against the pressure against his tongue, breathing through the pain. No one can know he's in pain.

Another lurch, this one he swallowed. He could feel the bile rising up his throat, putting his hand up again without raising his head; she ignored him.

Dean lowered his hand again and belched into his fist, pushing away from his desk just enough to keep his forehead on the edge. He had two options, realistically. He could just walk out right now, sure he would likely get detention but that can be sat when he doesn't feel like tossing his cookies in the middle of class (plus the teacher who sat with them was awfully cute and he was willing to bet he could turn her favour soon enough). Or, he could just sit here and ralf straight onto the carpet, giving the grouch a clean up job and making her feel guilty for not listening. On one hand, he really wanted to teach her a lesson and impulse control wasn't his forte, but could he really take the hit to his reputation if he let everyone see him be so weak? Maybe he only had one choice after all. 

He shot the kid next to him a grin before lugging himself to his feet and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Immediately the dragon stirred, beady eyes fixing on him.

She snarled. 

"Mister Winchester! If you don't sit down this instant you will not be returning to this class." the book hit the desk again and every other student turned to look at him. Well this was going well.

"Sorry, ma'am, no can do. Got an appointment with the porcelain gods, got me some praying to do" he patted his stomach for good measure, grin faltering as it twisted painfully in response. He swallowed against a hiccup.

For a moment she remained stunned, giving him enough time to walk out without any further interference. Over the buzz in his ears he was almost sure he could hear her shouting after him.

-

Finding the bathrooms had been a little tricky, he hadn't actually had to use them yet- he has a strict piss at home or not at all policy, too vulnerable around others with your trousers down -so he had to follow his gut. Typical of the school, to have them near the gym changing rooms. 

It was disgusting, the choking and coughing, the taste of bile and acid left on his tongue, the sound of sick splashing into the water. Not to mention the fact that his knees were aching and his back was really protesting against the jerking forwards over and over again.

He was lurching back over the bowl when someone knocked on the cubicle. Dean was sure his heart would have been thumping against his rib cage, were it not already halfway up his throat.

"Dean? That you?" Oh thank god, it's just Sammy. "The biology teacher just pulled me out of Spanish, apparently you caused a real scene in class. Can you let me in?"

Sam wrinkled his nose, the entire bathroom smelt of sickness and Dean was making sounds he didn't even think were human.

Dean grumbled and spat. He loved his brother, he really did, but he seriously just wanted to be in silence right now.

"No, Sammy, go 'way." Dean scrubbed a hand over his mouth. He felt empty but his stomach was killing him, like it was turning itself inside out just to spite him.

"They want me to take you home, Dean. C'mon, the hotel isn't too far." Sam knocked again, this time showing no signs of stopping. With a groan, Dean flushed the toilet and stood up; he stumbled backwards before he managed to stabilize himself.

He felt so dizzy, his head was spinning and the world wouldn't stay in place and all of his limbs felt like the bones had just disappeared. God forbid he was to pass out now, just to put the cherry on the cake. 

"My mouth tastes like ass." There was a click and the door swung open, revealing the ashen face of Dean, short fringe stuck to his forehead. Red spots dotted the bags under his eyes, the result of broken blood vessels thanks to all the painful retching.

"You're the expert on that taste then, eh?" Sammy couldn't help the smirk that split his face.

"Can it, princess."


	2. Sick and Alone (Sick Sam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are suffering for the entirety of this month thanks to Nov(Emeto)ber! Prompts were created by my good friend, you can find the prompt list and rules etc. over on https://monthofsick.tumblr.com
> 
> Day 2- Sick and Alone  
> > Sam is alone in his dorm with the stomach flu. It's times like these when he really misses his big brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this one in about an hour so forgive any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes and please don't hesitate to let me know if you spot any ;)
> 
> Tomorrow it's Gabriel
> 
> (BTW italics are text messages bc I'm pretentious)

The vomiting started at around 10pm, a mad stagger that resulted in far too close of a call for Sam's liking. Vicious cramps had him writhing in pain against the cool tile of his cushy private bathroom, the incessant urge to heave sitting at the top of his throat. His roommate was away, he had been for months now, off on some placement somewhere- Sam was almost certain he wasn't coming back.

He only left the bathroom because he couldn't stand the smell anymore, he'd made an effort to collect all the trash cans from around the room; one from his desk, one from his roommate's desk, one from the bathroom. Each had a bag in it, fresh thanks to the fact that he'd emptied them all earlier that day.

He took the time only to check his temperature, jamming the thing into his ear and groaning when the numbers flashed up. 102 degrees. Not good.

Didn't matter too much, he was too tired to make rational decisions right now. He collapsed against his bunk, thinking about Jess and Dean and his father, and curled up. How were they doing? Probably better without him. With that thought in his mind, he fell back to sleep.

-

It wasn't until around 3 am that he woke up again, screaming out his brother's name only for it to turn into a heave. He scrambled to untangle himself from the covers and hang his head over one of the bins, chin resting on the rim as he coughed up a mouthful of mucus and bile, the slurry hitting the plastic bag with an echoing splatter. His head was pounding, his throat still raw from all that happened no more than 5 hours ago, all this was making him feel so much worse.

He needed a drink, if not for any other reason than to give himself something to bring up. He also needed some painkillers and pepto, every time he moved his head did a double take and his stomach churned.

But most of all he just wanted his big brother.

Sammy blinked, eyes stinging as tears threatened to spill over. His mouth was hanging open and strings of saliva hung from his lips and chin, too stubborn to fall. He spat, trying desperately hard to clear his mouth, before swiping the back of his hand over his face, grimacing.

As he struggled to sit up he found himself crying, not because of the pain or discomfort but because he realised how alone he was right now. He and Jess had plans to move to a house together sure but she might as well be on the other side of the world right now. And Dean was who knows where, being a better son than he ever could be.

When they were little Dean would always look after him. Sammy got sick a lot, they couldn't afford the vaccines anymore so it was sorta up to him to build his immune system, but Dean always knew how to help. When their dad was away on hunts it was just the two of them against the world, and that's all Sammy needed. But now he was alone and it was his own fault.

He had gone as far away as possible because he couldn't hack the life he'd been thrown into, nor the expectations unfairly balanced on his shoulders.

But Dean has all that now. If he was here he would hold Sam close, he'd mess about with his hair and rub his back and tell him it would all be okay soon. Even if they both knew otherwise. He would tell Sammy to lay back down while he sorted out the trash can, bring him back some water and medicine. Tell him how much of a mess he is.

A sob ripped from Sam's chest, loud and out of no where, and he curled in on himself. He wrapped his arms around his chest and held himself as if he would fall apart otherwise- and he would. Dean was the strong one, he'd mastered the art of being okay even when his life was falling apart, he could always smile no matter what. Sam didn't have his skill.

-

Sam next jolted up at about 7 am, his alarm blaring at him and dragging him back into reality. He didn't remember falling asleep, he didn't remember fetching the glass of water on his nightstand and for a split second he was sure Dean had gotten him a drink until he realised there was no plausible way.

He didn't really feel too sick anymore, or maybe he did. To be honest everything was just numb. He only knew he was cold because of the goosebumps on his arms and legs; he was shivering too, but he didn't realise.

There was a half empty bottle of pepto sat on the floor, cap halfway across the room as if he'd thrown it off somewhere for whatever reason, and a bottle of aspirin was next to the glass of water. Rubbing his eyes, Sam took the thermometer and turned it on, watching the small, digital display as he waited for it to turn on properly. He shuddered as he pressed it into his ear, flinching at the beep.

99.5. Not too bad, he supposed. Still wasn't going to class today, he wasn't an idiot.

He dragged himself up and into the bathroom, acknowledging his reflection in the mirror on the cabinet as he filled the beaker on the sink with water to wash his mouth out with.

His skin was pale, almost grey really, and his eyes were bloodshot; the bags under them made it look like he'd been on the wrong side of a fight. His fringe was stuck to his forehead and the rest of his hair was a mess, sticking up at all angles.

He swore he could hear Dean telling him to get back into bed or else. Or was that just wishful thinking.

-

You never really notice the amount of noise an empty room makes, do you? The lights buzz, the old radiator under the window whistles in this weird, sort of quiet way. The clock on his desk keeps missing a second every so often.

Tick tock

tick tock

tick tock

tick

There it is. Sam holds his breath while the clock holds it's time.

tick tock.

He breathed out.

-

He dreamt of Dean. Or rather, of the two of them. Maybe it was a memory.

They were in some motel in the middle of nowhere, dad was off on a hunting trip and they were watching reruns of cartoons they could almost quote. Dean was sat on the chair and Sam was on his lap, laid with his head on the arm rest with a bowl of dry cereal balanced on his side.

"What's dad hunting this time?"

"A vampire." Dean's response was nonchalant, almost as though it was meant to be normal. And he supposed it was. For them, at least.

"D'ya think he'll be okay?"

Dean stopped chewing, lifting his head off of his hand. There was a moment of silence between them, the tv barely playing over the sound of Dean's breathing.

"He's always okay, he's dad. He promised."

Sam wasn't stupid, he was a little kid but he wasn't stupid. Dean was lying, always holding things together like it was his job alone. And Sam realised he did the same. He always agreed.

"Okay." He muttered quietly, reaching up to take a small handful of off-brand Shreddies.

Dean didn't say anything else.

-

He woke up again, a text from Jess was flashing up on the screen when he flipped open his phone.

_'I copied some notes up for you, I'll bring them by. You okay? x'_

He rubbed his eyes and squinted, trying to focus on those stupidly tiny keys. He typed out what he assumed was a coherent text message.

_'Sick, don't come. I'll get them tomorrow x'_

He backed out of the messages and his heart fell when he looked at the other conversations.

He didn't give out his number to many people, it wasn't that he didn't trust them, and almost directly bellow Jess' texts were the ones Dean sent him months ago. He shouldn't look at them.

He did.

_'Where the hell are you'_

_'Dad is worried sick'_

_'You can't just take off like that and expect it to be okay'_

_'Where the fuck are you?'_

_'Sammy if you don't fucking text me back right now I swear'_

_'Sam.'_

_'Whatever.'_

_'Don't expect me to answer if you call.'_

Sam threw his phone at the wall and rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow as tears burned his cheeks.

He really fucking missed him.


	3. Sick Without Warning (Sick Gabe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are suffering for the entirety of this month thanks to Nov(Emeto)ber! Prompts were created by my good friend, you can find the prompt list and rules etc. over on https://monthofsick.tumblr.com
> 
> Day 3 - Sick Without Warning  
> > Gabriel is human now and without proper appetite he neglects to eat properly. He goes out for a walk but with low blood sugars, well, it doesn't go too well. (Think of it as an alternate universe bc I couldn't think of a way to incorporate this into the cannon timeline)

It was blurry, all of it. The streets, the people, the shops, the lights. His heart was in his head and Gabe could barely stand straight, he'd left the bunker for air when he started to feel dizzy but it only got worse and now he was flush against the side wall of some bakery he couldn't pronounce the name off. He was spiraling downhill fast and he couldn't work out what the fuck was wrong.

Everything was starting to fade out, his hearing, vision, sense of touch and smell, and on top if the tremors that had taken over what felt like his whole body, Gabe was disoriented.

No, that wasn't even enough to describe it. He was petrified, he'd died before and he'd been gravely injured before but those instances were easier to control and comprehend. Mercifully, he felt his legs give way, the crack of his knees against concrete the last thing he was aware of before he blacked out, almost certain he was dying again.

-

Gabriel jolted up with a gasp, kicking his legs to try and free himself from whatever was on top of him. There was a weight on his chest, in his panic it felt like tons but in reality it couldn't have been any more than a clipboard or thick booklet of paper. A couple of people around him scrambled to hold him down; a paramedic and a man he had never seen before.

"Sir. Sir! Do you know where you are? I need you to calm down." Gabe, panting, turned his head to look at the man holding his arms, clad in uniform with paramedic undoubtedly plastered on the back of it.

The ex-angel panted and tried desperately to tug his legs free of the gent holding them to the bed, frustrated, confused and just as scared as he'd been in the alley.

"N-no! Let me go, I don't know where I am! Let me go please let me go whatever I did I'm sorry-" Gabe lost himself in continual pleading and begging, repeating himself over and over as both the other people in the car looked at each other with concern on their faces.

The pedestrian was wearing overalls, probably worked at a garage, and he was clearly in over his head, beads of sweat pouring down his face as he immersed himself into the situation as best he could. He was young, Gabe would have felt bad for him if he was thinking rationally right now.

"You're inside a cafe, sir, you collapsed in the streets. Can you tell me your name?" The paramedic took Gabe's shoulders and shook them- not harshly -in an attempt to 'wake him up'.

Gabe, seeming to slowly come down from the paranoia, blinked. While he calmed considerably, he was still trying to get the young lad to get off his legs.

"Gabriel. M-my name is Gabriel. Just get off me, please get off." Tears welled up in his eyes and threatened to spill over as he yanked his hands free and covered his eyes.

He still felt positively sick, now he wasn't blinded by irrational fear he could feel his head spinning even though he was almost laid down and his stomach was in knots, writhing and twisting.

The paramedic nodded towards the worker, who let go too, rubbing his wrists.

"We brought you inside so we could look you over away from the crowd. You were shivering so we put a blanket over you, okay?" He paused, Gabriel nodded. "I need to take draw a little blood, check your levels. Just a prick on your finger, nothing more."

Gabe let his head fall back against whatever he was laid on- probably a table now that he thought about it -and threw his arm over his eyes, exposing his other hand to the paramedic.

"You can go now, it's okay." Gabe was talking to the kid, and he listened as hesitant footsteps picked up and got further away, holding his breath as the door opened and then closed. He let it go again when the room started to buzz.

"You gave a few people a bit of a scare, Gabriel. One of the workers thought you'd died, she just found you laying next to the bins. Has anything like this happened before?"

"No. To be honest, buddy, everything is sorta new to me right now, I just f-...I just got my life back."

He hadn't been human for very long, a few days at most, sure Dean and Sam and even Cas had given him enough information on the basics but he was lost. He had ran away from heaven and lived as a human for long enough to be expected to know the rest.

"That so? Okay, just a little pin prick." Gabriel didn't even think to brace himself, a cool ring of plastic was pressed to the tip of his index finger and then pain shot through his hand. He snatched his hand away and in an instant he was lurching to the side as his stomach contracted and a wash of water and bile graced the table top, the paramedic's shoes and (barely) the floor.

There wasn't much in his stomach, since he fell his appetite had been almost non-existent and the idiots back at the motel couldn't coerce him into more than a few slices of toast, so as soon as he'd spat up a second mouthful of bitter fluid he was left dry heaving.

"Oooh- okay, I should have expected that one; you were looking a little peaky. That's alright," he put a hand on Gabriel's back and rubbed small circles between his shoulder blades until the empty retching stopped. He helped Gabe into a sitting position and then took a small, plastic strip from a pot, pressing it to the finger he'd impaled and catching a drop of blood on it.

Gabe took his hand back as soon as he could and used it to wipe his face, then wiping that on his jacket.

"Sorry, I uh...I didn't think I'd do that." He muttered the apology as he looked away, casting his eyes to the mess he'd made. There was a small beep, a hum and then the paramedic spoke.

"Don't worry about it, these pants have seen worse. Just as I thought, your blood sugar levels are incredibly low. Quick fix, you just need something sweet to bring them up and you'll be fine." He flashed Gabe a grin.

"Thank you, I'm sorry for the hassle" Gabriel's face flushed, shame burning through his body.

"Seriously, it's okay. We all need a little reminder sometimes, that we're human." Gabe heard him chuckle a little as he packed everything away, pulling out a packet of wipes to clean up with.

"You don't even know the half of it, dude."


	4. Out In The Rain (Sick Lucifer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are suffering for the entirety of this month thanks to Nov(Emeto)ber! Prompts were created by my good friend, you can find the prompt list and rules etc. over on https://monthofsick.tumblr.com
> 
> Day 4 - Lucifer had another fight with his father and Michael, this time it seems to have pushed him over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it to day four, oh boy these chapters are getting shorter and choppier. This one is for my good friend, Dayity, who has been a real inspiration in my life. 
> 
> Tomorrow we skip one, the prompt didn't tickle my creative bone, but the day after it's Castiel.

Lucifer couldn't remember a day where he wasn't arguing with his brothers. You know, he'd always loved his father far more than he'd care to admit but it was like he didn't even know him anymore. The man he used to know was gone, lost along the way to making these stupid, hairless apes that he held so dear to his heart.

Lucifer didn't like them.

All his dad ever did anymore was focus on them, no time for his sons or daughters or the rest of the angels. No. It was humans this, humans that, and for what? So he could watch them develop, like some twisted puppeteer with new toys.

Lucifer hated them.

Before, God would spend time with them, he would sit and laugh and listen to how their day went and he would make am effort to ensure each of his children were happy. Not anymore. Those mortal stains were more important to him, they were new and stupid, they needed protecting.

Lucifer despised them.

He wasn't going to sit idly by anymore, he refused to take part in this big idea, he wanted no more to do with those disgusting mundanes and their fragile little lives. He wanted things to burn, wanted them to scream and feel the pain and loneliness cast on him because of them. He wanted them to suffer as all God's sons are.

Michael couldn't see it, neither Gabe nor Urie nor Raphaell, Castiel was far too young to be concerned with family affairs like this. It was like they're all blinded by their trust in a man who'd drop them in a heartbeat if it meant the human race would live another day, Lucifer was the only one who could even see the injustice he swore by.

Today Michael had damn near plucked the very feathers from his wings, their father had screamed and shouted at Lucifer to grow up and stop acting like the victim, told him to get out and not come back until he could look past himself.

And now here he was.

He was sat somewhere on this ruined earth, rain hammering against his skin- borrowed skin.

He liked rain.

People often misconstrued the role of God in the weather, he is in no way meteorologically gifted, but if it settles their silky little minds to think that he is then who was Lucifer to stop them. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. Ignorance allows him to better punish them, when it comes to it.

Lucifer shivered as a drop of rain managed to pass the safety of his collar and run down his back.

The world was beautiful, Lucifer held it close to his heart, he really did, but now these blundering idiots were ruining it, tearing down the trees and taking the animals and slaughtering them as if the place belonged to them.

Lucifer spread his wings behind him, a crackling flash of thunder & lightning casting their shadow onto the grass as he threw his head back and screamed at the sky, tears finally breaching onto his cheeks and scalding the skin. He clenched his hands around handfuls of grass, ripping it from the roots and throwing it back to the ground again, curling in on himself.

He began to sob, harsh, pitiful sounds that made him seem so much younger than he was. His shoulders shook, back jumping as he bent even further over his lap, wrapping his arms around his chest almost as though trying to keep himself in one piece.

He hated that man, and yet he loved him. Lucifer truly wanted to be rid of the feeling of worthlessness he got whenever he saw his family; he was the outcast now.

-

He remained like that for a while, getting more and more worked up until the only sound that came form his body where choked gasps as he struggled to breathe through the tears, shivering and soaked as the rain only came down harder as though matching his mood. His breathing hitched and he found himself coughing up milky fluid, spluttering and gagging as he spat it out, marking his trousers white very briefly before the rain washed it away. He couldn't breathe, his chest grew tighter and tighter as he tried desperately to take in oxygen, lungs screaming, but he only managed shallow, sporadic breaths.

His head started to spin and he could see white at the edges of his vision but he couldn't calm down, his mind was racing too fast for him to comprehend or form a cohesive thought and if he didn't do something soon he was going to pass out.

He wondered briefly what his brothers would think if they saw him like this, weak and crying and gasping for air. They'd probably laugh, taunt him; call him weak. Tell him dad was right, that he was a shell if the being he was. With anger boiled his blood, he found the strength to breathe again. It took seconds, _seconds_ , to calm down, sadness replaced with rage as his mood turned once again. They've all taken advantage of him for too long, of his kindness and patience.

No more.

With the rain heavy on his back, Lucifer kicked off of the ground and took flight; he was going to show them the monster they'd made of him.


	5. Too Many Caretakers (Sick Castiel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are suffering for the entirety of this month thanks to Nov(Emeto)ber! Prompts were created by my good friend, you can find the prompt list and rules etc. over on https://monthofsick.tumblr.com
> 
> Day 6- Too Many Caretakers (Sick Castiel)  
> >Cas has a UTI and the brothers both attempt to nurse him back to health, but three really is a crowd.  
> AKA: Cas is sick and irritable and the brothers drive him insane (part 1 of 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof okay this one hasn't been beta read so forgive the sloppy writing.  
> Tomorrow it's Crowley
> 
> EDIT: I added emeto because it breached the rules of the challenged, plus some overall edits to the terrible writing I thrust at you

If the constant urge to urinate hadn't been enough of an indication that something was odd, the fact that it felt like he was pissing acid definitely told Castiel that something was seriously wrong.

He had been tossing and turning all night, unable to properly settle due to the ache in his back and sides, the frequent trips to the bathroom only to find he couldn't go, and the bizarre- and frankly disturbing -dreams. When he finally managed to go to the bathroom it felt like his urethra was on fire, intense pain shooting up both of his sides as he cried out in pain, unable to stop himself. He clenched every muscle he knew how to, cutting off the stream of urine before he was finished

He sunk to his knees, laying on the floor so he could curl up as tight as he could, trying to breathe through the urge to either cry, throw up or both. His hands found their way to the flesh just bellow his ribs, clawing and kneading at it in the hopes to stop the stabbing sensation. His abdomen throbbed, body begging for relief.

Just as the door opened(banging against the wall), his bladder cramped and he started to wet himself, pajama pants quickly going from a pale blue to a deep orange. A pool of the same colour collected on the floor next to his leg; he'd have been more embarrassed if he wasn't on the verge of screaming.

"Shit, Cas!" It was Dean, he was on his knees next to Castiel in mere seconds, holding his shoulder and arm. "What happened?!"

Sam was in the doorway soon enough, brows knitted together.

"It hurts." He forced the words out through gritted teeth, hissing in pain as he stopped peeing and the burning got worse. "Dean, it hurts so much please make it stop!"

The younger Winchester surveyed the scene, eyes widening as he spotted the puddle on the floor and the orange tinted water in the bowl. Blood in his pee, pain; a urine infection. He used to get them a lot when he was in uni, he would often neglect to drink enough throughout the day due to revision or assignments, so he was pretty familiar with them. Sam flushed the toilet and closed the lid, sitting down on top of it. Dean pulled Cas' head onto his lap, stroking his hair as he buried his face into Dean's thigh, back and shoulders jumping as he sobbed. 

Cas had been in pain before, he'd been killed and resurrected more than once now and he'd been on the verge of death more times than he could count, but this was different. Something about the very vulnerability of it all, maybe it was the fever, just made Cas feel so small and helpless. Exposed almost, like a hedgehog on it's back, thrashing wildly to turn over again. 

"Sam, help me get him up." Even with the two of them it was a struggle, Cas refused to stand straight and every time the brothers tried to coerce him into it he would cry out, tears streaming down his face.

He was barely on his feet before he struggled against their grip and crashed back onto his knees, fumbling with the seat and lid and hanging his head over the lip of the bowl, clenching his fists around the fabric of his shirt as he heaved, Sam and Dean both rushing to rub his back; Dean got there first. One hand held his forehead, Cas was getting dangerously close to the water, and the other ran up and down his spine. Sam pulled a flannel off of the rack near the door, running the warm tap to wet it and then waiting diligently to wipe Cas' mouth. They spent another five or so minutes in there, Cas would throw up once and then lay back against Dean's chest, allowing Sam to wipe the sick and spittle from his chin before he would jolt back over the bowl to puke again. 

It took a while to get him changed and back into bed, laying a towel down under him in case he had another accident, and it took even longer for the pain to ease enough for him to move. Sam watched him closely, eventually convincing him to take some pain killers and drink some water while Dean rang around their connections within healthcare. The hope was to try and get some medication, but none of them could help due to various reasons- morals, bitter resent towards Dean, the fear of losing their jobs. Looks like the poor guy would have to tough this one out.

-

"I think you have a uti, Cas." While Dean made a supply run- cranberry juice, ice, stronger painkillers -Sam was sat with Castiel, the angel drifting in and out of consciousness. Cas smacked his lips, swallowing before he spoke.

"What's that?"

"A urine infection, you probably got it when you jumped in the lake yesterday, after Dean. It'll hurt for a while but if you stay hydrated it should clear up on its own in a few days." Sammy frowned. Castiel's cheeks were flushed, the rest of his skin startlingly pale in contrast to the dark bags under his eyes. A fever, no doubt, which meant this was a mean one.

"I want it to stop, Sam, I don't like this." Cas started to fuss again, rolling over and jamming his hands between his legs under the privacy of the covers. Sam could tell what he was doing though.

"If you feel like you have to go to the bathroom, Cas, you need to go. I know it hurts when you do but holding it in will only make it worse."

Cas shook his head.

"Cas, seriously. Come on, I'll help you." Sam pulled back the covers and helped him sit up, pausing when Cas tensed up and bit his lip, tears welling in his eyes again. It took a few minutes before he relaxed, huffing.

"Sam I-I...I'm sorry, I'm being a burden." They moved slowly, standing Cas up on shaky legs and walking him to the bathroom. Sam closed his eyes without being asked, supporting Cas under his arms as he pulled his trousers down and then lowered him onto the seat when Cas said he was ready. Sam winced when barely a trickle hit the water, wincing again when Cas dug his nails into the flesh of Sammy's forearm and began to sob.

-

Dean got back about half an hour after that, Cas had just settled down again and fallen asleep so Sam really wanted to punch Dean in the face when he dropped the bag against the table and woke Cas up.

"Damn it, Dean!" Sam pushed up from the bed he was sat on, replacing the cloth on Castiel's forehead; it had fallen off when he shot up seconds ago. It wasn't really helping the fever too much, but it had helped calm Cas down.

"Sorry. My bad." He held his hands up, Cas stared at him for a few seconds before closing his eyes again.

"Hey woah, Cas, c'mon, you gotta have a drink." Dean fished about in the bag and produced a carton of cranberry juice, disappearing into the kitchen to find a glass and then pouring some out. He sat next to Sam, leaning over to tap Cas' shoulder.

Sam grabbed his wrist.

"Dude, don't wake him up!" He hissed, snatching the glass away and setting it on the table as gently as he could. "I've had him drinking water the whole time you were out, he's alright for now. Let him sleep."

"Yeah well, that's just water, this stuff helps or whatever, you said it yourself." Dean picked the glass up again, Sam shot him a warning look.

"Don't you dare wake him up, I know what I'm doing, you don't."

"Yeah well I'm older so I get to decide what happens and you get to shut your cake hole." Dean put the cup down so roughly that juice splashed over the wood.

Cas sat up again, throwing the cloth to the ground as he glared at the two of them as menacingly as his could manage.

"Both of you need to go away." His chest rose and fell sporadically, clearly he was annoyed.

"Cas we can't leave you alone-" Dean began to defend himself but the angel swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. He almost fell back down onto the sheets, barely managing to stay on his feet. Sam made a move to grab him but Castiel slapped his hand away and staggered past his advance, barely making it to the door frame of the bathroom before he almost collapsed, legs weak and back throbbing.

Both the brothers stood up to grab him but Cas was already inside the bathroom and closing the door. The lock clicked and Sam's heart fell through the floor. This wasn't good.


	6. Messy To The Max (Sick Crowley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are suffering for the entirety of this month thanks to Nov(Emeto)ber! Prompts were created by my good friend, you can find the prompt list and rules etc. over on https://monthofsick.tumblr.com
> 
> Day 7- Messy to the max (Sick Crowley)  
> > Crowley has caught some sort of demon exclusive illness and not knowing were else to go, he turns up at Bobby's door. Light jesting turns sour in a colossal way but that's okay because Bobby can probably handle it. Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again not proof read, I apologise. This time I do hope it's written better though, but that's up to you to decide. There's Crowley/Bobby if you squint.
> 
> Tomorrow it's Gabe again ;)

When Bobby opened the door and immediately had to catch Crowley, he began to wonder what the world was coming to. And he continued to ponder over this topic as he half-dragged the demon into the living room and dumped him on the sofa, trying not to listen too intently.

Crowley almost seemed to be struggling to breathe, rasping and wheezing, tugging desperately at the tie around his neck. Bobby leant down and pulled it loose, sitting on the chair near him.

"What the hell appened to you, Crowley?"

The man on his couch turned his head to acknowledge him through hazy eyes, letting one arm drop of the edge before he tried to speak. He almost looked vulnerable.

"I don't...know." Crowley took a sharp breath in and it caught in his throat, chest convulsing as he choked. He clapped a hand over his mouth as he hacked. Bobby winced as he watched Crowley grip the bottom of the sofa with his dangling hand; as soon as he could speak again, the sass picked up. "I wouldn't...I wouldn't be here i-if I knew."

"No need to be a jackass. So what's wrong with you? Just the breathing?" Bobby stood up again, intending to fetch Crowley a glass of water.

"No. Feel kinda, uh." Crowley was wildly gesturing with his hands, trying to find the word.

"Kinda what? Dizzy? Cold?" Bobby paused in the doorway, shrugging.

"Queasy." Crowley finished, dropping his hands again.

"Don't you go barfing on my floor, y' hear?" It was hard to take anything Bobby said seriously, especially when Crowley couldn't form a coherent thought.

"Hmm."

-

Three glasses of water and an expired cough sweet later, Crowley was dozing on the couch, one arm over his chest and the other over his eyes. Bobby got up again and made his way into the kitchen, where he propped his elbows on the counter and planted his head on his hands. Crowley wasn't even a handful, he was honestly the easiest sick person to look after that Bobby had ever had collapse against him, but something about all this unsettled him.

Crowley was the king of hell and the last time they'd met he'd threatened to torch Crowley's bones, he couldn't shift the feeling that this was just some plot to do him in twice till Sunday.

It can't actually be that he's really sick, demons don't get sick. Or, at least, as far as Bobby knew anyways.

The sound of slow, clumsy footsteps behind him caused Bobby to turn around, faced with Crowley lent against the door frame with an arm around his stomach.

"Can I borrow your washroom?" He forced the words out around the urge to gag sitting atop his tongue, swallowing repeatedly with the hope it would somehow settle his stomach. Bobby smirked and Crowley's stomach felt like it just dropped through fifty floors and the concrete foundations.

"Why, where ya takin' it?" He chuckled to himself, pressing the base of his back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Seriously, I don't have time-" he stopped himself dead when a gurgle split the air, pressing his mouth firmly shut and clenching his jaw. Bobby raised a brow as he watched Crowley's throat work, Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"Son, you okay?" Bobby uncrossed his arms and made a move towards Crowley, but it was no use.

With a silent heave, Crowley jerked forward and brought up a flood of water, covering his suit, his shoes, Bobby's kitchen floor, the lot. And that wasn't all. He collapsed onto all fours, knees cracking against the linoleum as he braced himself over the mess and gagged again, back arching as sick poured out of his open mouth, splattering against the floor and his hands. He could feel it leeching into his trousers, spreading it involuntarily with his hands as he sucked in a desperate breath, coughing on the exhale. A pathetic mouthful of puke dripped to the floor as he shuddered, clearing his mouth as best he could while Bobby cursed, using words even Crowley dare not.

"For God's sake, ya idjit, what'd I say?" He wasn't exactly annoyed, but he didn't want to be too concerned about the man who tried to con him out of his soul barely a year and a half ago.

"I asked you-" his words gave way to a loud wretch and bile spilled past his lips, mixed with some milky white fluid that Bobby didn't want to know the origins of; who knows what demons actually eat. He sucked up his pride and made his way over to Crowley, planting a hand on his back and squatting down next to him. The puddle, at this point, was unavoidable, and Bobby had to step in it to be close enough to help.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." He muttered, gently running his hand across Crowley's shoulder-blades. The demon almost looked as though he was going to comment on the affection, but ultimately decided against it.

Maybe he really was sick after all.

"As fun as this two person puke party is, I really think we oughta get you to the toilet." Crowley was panting over the puddle, trying his best not to breathe through his nose as to avoid agitating his stomach again. Hesitantly, he nodded. Bobby looked at the mess Crowley had made of himself and added, "You're about my height, right? You can borrow some of my clothes."

 _Please,_ Bobby hauled Crowley to his feet, trowing one of the demon's arms over his shoulder so he could hold him up better,  _please don't let me be falling for him._


	7. Party Pooper(there's only emeto) (Sick Gabe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are suffering for the entirety of this month thanks to Nov(Emeto)ber! Prompts were created by my good friend, you can find the prompt list and rules etc. over on https://monthofsick.tumblr.com
> 
> Day 8- Party Pooper  
> > Gabe and Balthazar drag Cas to a party with them, however when Balthazar informs Cas that Gabe's throwing up, things start to go downhill.
> 
> (Set in a uni au, all characters portrayed, unless stated otherwise, are over 21 years of age)

"Gabriel, I want you to know that I hate you." Cas yanked his arm out of his brother's grasp, brushing off his jacket as if trying to remove the lingering presence.

Gabriel had been invited to a party, the kid down the hall- Dean, if he remembered rightly -was throwing a big celebration for his brother's birthday. It's important to note that the kid is only turning 17 and obviously doesn't attend the uni. From what Gabe had heard Dean really liked to party, and drink. Mostly drink. 

Gabriel playfully shoved Castiel, grinning at him. 

"C'mon, Cas, don't be such a party pooper! You'll love it, I hear that there's lots of cute girls floating around tonight, including that lovely specimen from your RE lectures I always see you hanging around with. I don't know how you haven't tapped that yet" Despite his little brother's protests, he threw an arm over his shoulders, pinching his cheeks. Cas batter his hands away, pulling a face.

"First of all, please refrain from referring to women as 'specimen' ever again, that's really inappropriate and objectifying. Secondly, you do realise you can have relationships with people that don't just evolve around sex, right? And not that it matters, since you seem to keep forgetting, but you know I don't"-Cas raised his hands to air quote-" 'play for your team.' "

Gabe smacked a hand against his forehead, clicking his fingers.

"Ah, or course. Sorry Cassy, forgot ya play for the gay one." 

Castiel was about to chastise him when another dead weight slammed onto his right shoulder, almost knocking him to the floor. Turning his head, he saw Balthazar hanging off of him.

"Play? Little Cas is leader of the gays!" he flashed Cas a smile, ruffling his hair.

"Stop calling me Cassy" he scowled and pushed Gabriel off, then adding "And I'm certainly not little" before shoving Balthazar off too. Both of them laughed, and soon enough Cas was laughing too.

"I hate the both of you" he was still smiling despite himself. 

"Of course you do," Balthazar replied with a flourish, fixing his outfit. He was the best dressed out of the three of them, as always, with an open waistcoat sat over a light blue button up shirt, tucked into tight fitting, deep blue jeans. He wore slim, black boots that matched the waistcoat and even the belt- which hung at an angle, dipping on his left side to his mid thigh given it was only looped through his jeans on the right. He was the fashionable one in the family, honestly, and the only one besides Michael that dressed well. 

Gabe, on the other hand, was dressed in lose, light coloured jeans, a khaki coloured jacket and a light grey t-shirt, battered looking grey converse on his feet. Cas was probably in the middle of the two, wearing modest clothes; black chinos, deep blue shirt, loosely tucked in with the top button undone, and an unzipped hoodie that fit snug to his arm.

\- 

Soon enough they'd found the right dorm room, Balthazar knocking on the door, rather hard as to be heard over the blaring music inside. The three of them stood outside, Gabe stood behind the other two with a hand pressed to his abdomen, frowning. Somewhere between his & Cas' dorm and this one his stomach had started to bother him, a dull ache set in his gut. He dropped his arm to the side when the door swung open, a rough looking boy hanging off of it in a way that could only be described as badboy-esque, a hand hanging off of the top with one leg crossed over the other.

"The Shurley boys? I've heard great things, come in." he stepped to the side, mockingly bowing and holding one arm over his chest, the other straight, motioning for them to enter. Balthazar chuckled, smirking, and sauntered in. Cas followed quietly behind, shuffling, with Gabe striding in last.

"Make yourselves at home, beer's in the fridge and snacks are somewhere around here, probably" with that, Dean disappeared into the mass of people, mingling as well as his reputation had described him to.

-

Cas was sat on his own on the stranger's couch when said stranger flopped down next to him, a green bottle in either hand. He offered one to Cas, who politely refused, before necking his own and setting the bottle down on the floor next to the sofa.

"Cas, right? S'that with one 's' or two?" Dean was wearing a lopsided, goofy looking grin, and it made Cas' heart feel as though it was beating all over his body.

"Um," he started quietly, Dean leant closer and Cas' cheeks flushed pink. "One," he replied quietly, then adding as an afterthought "But my dad spells it with two."

"Well, Cas with one 's', you're looking real uncomfortable. Why are ya hear if you don't like it?" Dean sipped with bottle he'd brought for Castiel, and Cas realised, embarrassed, that he wanted the bottle more now.

"My brother, Gabriel, wanted me to accompany him. I can't leave him alone at the sort of occasions, he doesn't adhere to his known tolerance limits. And Balthazar has a bad habit of upsetting women, I normally have to stop him from making too many girls cry" Cas shrugged, scanning the room, looking for the two idiots that dragged him here. Neither were anywhere to be seen, immediately his stomach dropped.

"Sounds like you're their babysitter, Cas." Dean commented mildly, frowning when he noticed how stressed Cas was getting. "You okay, Castiel?"

"No, no I'm not, I cannot locate my brothers." He patted down his trousers and then pulled his phone out, switching on the screen and opening up the messaging app. As if on cue, Balthazar came into view, making a beeline for the two of them.

"Castiel, I need you. It's rather urgent" Dean raised an eyebrow, taken back.

"Woah woah woah, hold on. You're English? How the hell does that work?" 

Balthazar shushed him. "That's a problem for later. Gabe's fallen ill, he's asking for you, Cas." He offered a hand and Cas took it, paling himself as he nodded. 

Dean watched them both leave, scratching the back of his neck. He tipped the bottle back against his lips and took a few swigs of warmed beer.

-

Cas shut the door to the communal bathrooms as softly as he could, wrinkling his nose as the sour smell of sick crept around him. Gabe was draped over the toilet in the cubical at the other end of the room, one arm over the bowl and the other holding his hair into a loose ponytail. Balthazar hauled himself onto the sink directly opposite (probably the only one of them that was light enough to do that) playing with one of the rings on his fingers, watching quietly.

"He refused to let me help, says he'd rather you do it. I think my cologne might have been making it worse." Cas nodded at his words, squatting behind Gabe with his feet flat on the ground. Currently, his big brother was just panting into the bowl, stomach making all kinds of painful sounding noises. Cas placed his hand on top of Gabe's rubbing his thumb across the back of it to coax him into letting go of his hair. Gabriel did so without much of a fight, allowing Cas to gather it up more effectively. 

"I'm sorry" it came out as more of a low rumble than words, Gabe's miserable voice echoing inside of the porcelain. 

"It's okay, Gabriel, you can't help being unwell." he placed the palm of his free hand against the small of his brother's back, rubbing circles into it. Almost as though in reaction to this, a wet sounding belch clipped from Gabe's lips, it took a lot of effort for Cas not to cringe away because of it. he heard Gabe swallow compulsively, muscles under his hand tensing up.

"If you need to be sick again, Gabriel, I think you should. Holding back will only make it hurt more."

Gabriel shook his head, back jumping with a repressed heave. Another silent jolt sent fluid spilling into the water, Gabe coughing and spluttering as he struggled to suck in air before the next wave, back arching as vomit spilled from his open lips and burned his nose. 

He threw up twice more before he settled down again, Balthazar appearing behind Cas with a wad of tissues in his hand. Cas mouthed a thank you and removed his hand from Gabe's back to take it; his older brother fussed quietly.

"I need you to sit up, Gabriel, so I can wipe your face." He waited patiently for Gabe to raise his head, gently running the tissue over his lips and chin and then telling him to blow his nose into it, throwing it into the water bellow. Tears were drying on his cheeks, fresh ones welling up in his eyes as Cas used the cuff of his sleeve to wipe them away. 

"I wan' go to bed." he mumbled, sniffing up and letting himself fall against the wall of the cubicle. Cas nodded and turned his head to face Balthazar.

"Can you help me get him up?" 

"Of course I can, Castiel. He's in a really bad way, isn't he? Do you think this is the bug Luci had the other week?" He stepped into the small space and wrapped one hand around Gabe's arm, pulling him up enough for Cas to take the other side. 

"It's possible, since Lucifer stayed in our dorm while he was ill." He threw Gabriel's arm over his shoulders and held it on the other side, Balthazar mirroring him. When Gabe's head lolled against his arm, he could feel the heat radiating off of it, frowning.

"We might have to call Michael, he's much better at this than we are." at the mention of their other brother's name, Balthazar narrowed his eyes.

"No, absolutely not. Gabe will be fine, Cas, I know what I'm doing and so do you. There's no need to call him."

-

The two of them managed to get Gabriel into bed without any incidents, no more said between them until he was dozing off under the thinnest blanket they could find.

"Are you sure he'll be okay? I've never seen him this sick." Cas was sat on the floor a few feet away from Gabe's bed, playing with the hem of his shirt.

"He'll be fine, don't worry so much. We just need to keep him hydrated until he can keep food down again." Balthazar was significantly less dressed up now, his vest abandoned somewhere and his shirt untucked, shoes off. Cas was still dressed exactly as he had been, aside from his hoodie. They'd stripped Gabe down to just his boxers.

"As long as you're sure." Cas wasn't so certain if he were honest, but he had to trust in the fact that Balthazar would never hurt his family intentionally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I fell so far behind, guys, but I'm going to try and get all the chapters done by the end of this month! And if not you can be sure it won't be much longer before all 21 are up. Once again, sorry it took so long! There'll be another two posted today.


	8. Here, Have A Hot Drink (Sick Lucifer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are suffering for the entirety of this month thanks to Nov(Emeto)ber! Prompts were created by my good friend, you can find the prompt list and rules etc. over on https://monthofsick.tumblr.com
> 
> Day 10- Here, Have A Hot Drink  
> > Sam is still salty about everything, deciding to get his own back he has Lucifer drink inhumane amounts of coffee. It's the hot chocolate that finally does him in though.
> 
> (Cannon divergent, literally doesn't fit anywhere in the timeline at all.)

"Sam, come on, this is insane!" Lucifer gestured to the, once again, full cup of coffee on the table in front of him.

"No, that's coffee." Dean smacked Sam on the shoulder and cackled, the only one laughing at his joke. 

"Seriously, this is like the fifth cup of coffee you've given me!" Despite the protest, he picked it up and started to sip it.

"We're just curious, Lucifer, that's all." Sam rested his elbow on the table, sat opposite Lucifer, and rested his head on his hand. He watched the angel closely.

But that wasn't all. Lucifer had put him and his brother through the ringer as of late and this was really the least Sam could do to get him back. He'd watched Dean down copious amounts of coffee following one of their all-nighters, maybe two or three full mugs of the stuff, and that ended miserably. 

"Sadistic, you mean." He downed the rest of the cup in three gulps, grimacing. "Look you can have your fun, but no more coffee, okay?" 

Sam nodded as Lucifer set the cup on the table, swiping it up almost as soon as it touched the wood.

"You like hot chocolate?" Sam had his back turned, filling the kettle again and setting it back on the base, flicking it on.

"Never had it, never had the opportunity." Lucifer shrugged, not that Sam could see it.

"Well congrats, I'm giving you the chance." 

-

Lucifer regarded the drink with mild disgust, wrinkling his nose up and then looking at Sam as if he'd slapped him. 

"You do realise that sweet stuff is more Gabe's thing, right? Me, not so much." He pushed it away, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

"Wimp." It was really just a whisper, but Lucifer's eyes narrowed.

"Excuse me?" He leant over the table, as far as he could while still sitting down.

"I said you're a wimp. It's a drink, what're you afraid of?"

Without answering him, Lucifer picked up his mug and pressed it to his lips, tipping his head back and draining it in one go. Immediately he grimaced, shuddering as he slammed the cup back down, making Sam jump.

"First of all-" whatever he was going to say got lost in a heave, a guttural sound ripping from his chest and sending him lurching over the table. Sam scrambled up and raced around the table to lug Lucifer up onto his feet, shoving him into the bathroom as the angel retched into the hand pressed over his mouth. Dean spun his head around from the sofa and watched the two of them hurry off into the toilet before he made an effort to join them.

Dean got the the door just as Lucifer choked up the first rush of coffee and hot chocolate, the mess splashing into the basin and coating the back with a deep brown wash. Sam was knelt beside him with one hand on his back and the other on his arm, keeping Lucifer steady on his knees and rubbing his back as he squirmed in discomfort. Luci got barely a second to breathe before a burp ushered up another projectile flood of warm puke, this time it came out of his nose and left it burning as he coughed and gasped and struggled to regain control of his body. 

Lucifer had both of his elbows on the edge of the basin, head dipped down between them with both hands held far above his head, tensed into claw-like shapes. Each time he burped, a gush of sick would follow on the tail end, tasting much worse on the way up. 

He spat, mouth hanging open lazily as he let tendrils of saliva and coffee hang from his lips. Sammy frowned, trying his best not to look into the toilet.

"That's what I was afraid of." Lucifer glared at Sam from the corner of his eye and shoved him off, coughing into the bowl, spitting again before he flopped back onto his ass.

"Sorry," Sam scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, looking up at Dean (who shrugged) for help.

Lucifer groaned as he re-positioned himself back over the porcelain and heaved, back arching as a flood of bile and regret joined the rest of the mess. With more left in his stomach, he threw an arm over the rim and rested his forehead on it, doing his best to clear his mouth of the acrid taste.

This was going to be a long afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little short, forgive me, but here it is anyways.


	9. Guess It's Not Just A 24 Hour Bug (Sick Dean Smith)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are suffering for the entirety of this month thanks to Nov(Emeto)ber! Prompts were created by my good friend, you can find the prompt list and rules etc. over on https://monthofsick.tumblr.com
> 
> Day 11- Guess It's Not Just A 24 Hour Bug.  
> >Dean Smith is the hardest worker Sam Wesson had ever met, doesn't mean he doesn't get sick though. He comes back into work after taking one day off, assuming it to be just one of those 24 hour things, and oh boy was he wrong.

Dean pressed his forehead to the desk and sighed, scrubbing the back of his head with both hands. He’d been forced to take yesterday off, given he’d spent the better part of the day in the bathroom trying to puke up a kidney, but breakfast had stayed put and he’d elected to go back to work. 

Being the director of sales and marketing meant that most of his day was taking calls and reading through reports, normally a job he really enjoyed actually, but today he didn’t have the will to put his headset in or even log into his computer. He’d even instructed his secretary to divert all calls to her phone and to reschedule.

His phone buzzed; speak of the secretary.

“A Mr Wesson is requesting permission for your audience, sir.” Sam. Oh boy.

Dean lifted one hand and slammed a finger into one of the buttons, hoping it was the right one. A short tone sounded to tell him his line was on.

“Send him in.” talking was much harder than it should be. Another tone sounded as it cut off and he found himself flinching.

“Yes sir.” she hung up and moments later the door to his office opened, Sam’s head appearing from the other side. Dean sat up, crossing his arms across his chest.

“You coming out for lunch? I know you’re on your whole juice cleanse or whatever but I found a real nice looking vegetarian bar a couple blocks from here and apparently they make a real mean cheese and broccoli quiche.” Sam flashed Dean a grin and Dean, in turn, grimaced. The idea of a cheese and broccoli anything made his stomach turn and Dean swore he could already feel the quiche slipping down his gullet. He swallowed; Sam frowned, stepping into the room and letting the door close. “You okay?”

Dean really wanted to say he was, but the second he opened his mouth to talk his insides cramped and his stomach jumped up his throat. A strangled noise forced it’s way between his lips and he pitched forwards, almost smacking his head on the edge of his desk as he pushed his chair out and made a grab for the paper bin under the cubby hole. Sam grimaced as his back arched, shirt pulled tight over his back, and the sound of fluid hitting the bottom of the plastic echoed through the room. Dean spat, coughed and then gagged again, the images of the fruit processing in the blender this morning running through his mind; it almost felt like his stomach was spinning with it. 

He felt a hand settle between his shoulder blades as he choked up a mouthful of berry mush and bile, strings of it hanging from his lips and stubbornly refusing to detach. Dean used his thumb and forefinger to grab them and flick them into the bin, breathing erratically as Sam continued to run his hands over the tense muscles of Dean’s back.

“Jeez, man, why are you even at work?”

“I thought it was just 24 hour thing, okay? Get off my ass.” he straightened up and shook Sam off, who laughed.

“Clearly not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this is the shortest one yet, I apologise. Anyways, couldn't resist the urge to torture this version of Dean, he's really quite sweet ngl.


End file.
